King Harry
by Aragon85
Summary: Pre Tudors/AU: King at the age of ten, Harry VIII deals with being a boy King whilst struggling to control the factions that are rising around him. From menial spats with his tutors to threats of civil war the boy King struggles on his shaky unsure throne. Harry learns that being a King is hard work with overbearing courtiers wrestling for power and a fracturing family.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: Prompted Plot Bunny #46, posted by Cap Red. This is an AU Pre - Tudor's fic, where Henry becomes King as a child. The plot bunny allows whether or not Arthur is a younger brother or never existed. For reasons I can't explain I can't bring myself to leave Arthur Tudor out of it. Hope you enjoy, let me know if I should continue.**

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**Noon, Friday, 17 June 1497, Deptford Bridge, Blackheath**

Edmund de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk walked silently along the banks of the river Ravensbourne. All around him men were rushing to and fro, messengers sent from the King to his advisors in London informing them that the royal army had defeated the Cornish rebellion. Edmund stood grimly watched as men carried soldiers after soldiers of the dead. The worst however were the wounded, their cries and haunting moans sending shivers down the spines of the living. Edmund could barely remember a time when England was at peace with no fear of rebellion, battles and pretenders. His mind stretched back to the reign of his uncle King Edward IV, many called those the golden days and indeed mostly they were but underneath his uncle's cheerful exterior there was lingering doubt about his own throne. To an extent Edmund's mother's brother's had ruined themselves, the three brothers of York Edward, George and Richard had all betrayed the other, the traitor George was executed by Edward, overweight Edward died too young in his bed, and good uncle Richard killed Edward's boys.

Edmund looked out to where several groups of Cornishmen were being chained up on the King of England's commands. Henry Tudor had solved nothing, just over ten years on the throne and it was as shaky as ever. Edmund shook his head he had many grievances with King Henry, everyday building up more and more. Edmund breathed in through his nostrils and took in the smell of the countryside, the smell of the river but laced with the smell of blood of the dead and the wounded. Edmund looked at his own clothes and saw blood stain after blood stain, he wasn't even sure where his blood began and the blood of those he slay ended. Edmund turned and looked to where the dead bodies of Englishmen were being laid down in a huge pile. Tudor had been the cause of all of this, it was he who had levied huge amounts of tax on the Cornish, he had angered them, and they rose in rebellion. What was he following the Welshman for? Edmund wondered, he had a better claim to the throne than Tudor, hell his _cook_ had a better claim to the throne than any Tudor.

Edmund had been fifteen when his uncle King Edward had died and his sons seemingly followed him to the grave, he was seventeen when his uncle King Richard was torn down in battle. He was nineteen when his brother John, Earl of Lincoln had raised battle against Tudor at Stoke, now here again was another battle where English blood had been split and no one was closer to understanding who had the best right on the throne of England. Tudor could sing about prophecies about the return of King Arthur all he liked, but the fact remained after twelve years he was as likely to lose his throne as the day he won. Today he was lucky, the leaders of this rebellion had been a lawyer and a blacksmith. The blacksmith had still yet to be caught but Tudor had sent guards to the sanctuary where the man was begging for his life.

Tudor was lucky that at the head of the army instead of a lawyer, a blacksmith and an idiotic nobleman Lord Audley that it hadn't been the man who claimed to be Prince Richard of York, Edmund's cousin, the second son of King Edward and the Queen of England's brother who obviously had a stronger claim to the throne than anything she could pass in her blood to her sons. What did Edmund think of him? From the start he had been unsure, Lambert Simnel had ruined the initial rush of relief at learning that his cousin the duke of York had survived. Perhaps he was simply what Tudor had said, a lad from Flanders by the name of Perkin Warbeck. Family loyalty clung to the fact that if cousin Richard was alive, then Uncle Richard hadn't killed him like everyone said he had. But what happened to cousin Edward? Who had killed him if Uncle Richard hadn't, and Edmund knew one thing for certain Tudor hadn't. Edmund had been privy to information to learn that Tudor was having sleepless nights that Perkin Warbeck was Prince Richard. Tudor had the Tower of London raided over and over again for any evidence where the Princes had gone.

Edmund thought about to the days of his Uncle Richard, did he say anything about it? He denied it certainly but all he said was that the boys were removed to a safer location, he had justified his claim to the throne by insisting that the married between King Edward and Queen Elizabeth Wydeville was invalid, Edward had been married to another at the time. King Edward had no legitimate children, so the throne went to Uncle Richard, however Uncle Richard causally side stepped the fact that his elder brother George of Clarence had a son the earl of Warwick. So Edmund had questioned to himself since his family's catastrophic end…. Did Uncle Richard kill them? Or did someone else? And they did that third party set him up? In another way was Richard right? And everyone from Sir William Hastings, John Morton, right down to Edmund's other uncle Sir Thomas St Ledger widower of his aunt Anne of York all horribly wrong? Edmund thought of his tall and handsome uncle, he was not as giving with his attention and as larger than life as King Edward, but he was certainly nicer than Uncle George.

All three brothers however had a ruthless streak in them, so Edmund with a heavy heart concluded that yes Richard had betrayed his family and had killed his nephews, Perkin Warbeck was an impostor, the next male heir of the house of York was the earl of Warwick, however since he couldn't tell the difference between fire and water, the real White Rose was in fact Edmund himself. And year after year he was being punished by Tudor because Tudor knew it to be the truth. Crippled by increasing debts, forced to fork out to his mother far more larger sums than he could afford and suffering in a loveless marriage with a Baron's daughter who couldn't give him a son, he continuously felt cheated. He should be wed to a much more important noblewoman with a larger dowry. To tap it all off Tudor had once again refused to allow Edmund to be the duke of Suffolk, and made sure that he would remain the earl of Suffolk. Edmund smiled darkly, he should be King of England, and yet here he was covered in mud and blood staring over at the impeccably dressed usurper with his new men who he turned to for advice.

Perkin Warbeck a boatman's son was getting more recognition than he was. It wasn't fair. Across the river he continued to watch Henry Tudor speaking with his advisors, one of them being the earl of Oxford a die hard Lancastrian who had barely ever shown a flicker of respect Edmund's way. Oxford had gotten it all, earl Marshal of England, Constable of the Tower of London, returned to his rights and liberties, Godfather to Henry, Prince of Wales, Edmund the Queen's most senior cousin, had gotten nothing. Resentment brewed deeply in his breast as he tried to look on the King with false cheer. They had won the battle but the war was far from over, there was still a threat in the north from the backstabbing Scots, Perkin was still sailing from Ireland threatening to take the throne. Edmund saw Oxford glance his way and nod to him, Edmund nodded back and moved to raise his hand in acknowledgement but winched at the pain of it. He pulled back his blood soaked sleeve and saw the deep gash that went from his elbow to the tips of his baby finger. A Cornishman had caught him off guard, the man had come to regret it as Edmund had slashed him across the face before plunging his sword into the man's beefy neck. Edmund flexed the muscle to test how badly it hurt, it stung some but he supposed it could have been a lot if to prove a point a dead soldier was dropped at his feet, the commoners sent to help fetch the dead bodies bowed and apologised at once.

'Me apologies me lord' A round fat one said and Edmund nodded grimly his eyes firmly on the dead carcass of a large man with grizzly hair. The men picked the Cornishman back up and made their way towards the mass grave that King Henry had intended on putting those who were not identified. Edmund had rushed out to help Henry but he knew not to expect any rewards, no lessening of the financial bonds the crafty man had strapped around him. A scuffle from the corner of his eye caught Edmund's attention and he turned to see James, Lord Audley wrestling with his guards.

Nothing could save Audley from the headsman and the man knew it. Edmund wondered what on God's green earth had the man attempted to do when he joined up with Michael Joseph the so called "An Gof" a blacksmith and Thomas Flamank a misguided lawyer. Audley was pale as a ghost, Tudor was not going to let him away with it. Edmund turned in the direction of Audley's vision and spotted Henry Tudor staring over coldly towards his once trusted courtier. Edmund had to hand it to the Welshman his cold stares could freeze a fire, which was odd since when he wanted to he had oddly deep blue eyes which he had heard Elizabeth gush about in the first few weeks of her marriage, then when she got to know her halfway handsome husband a little bit more she ceased to gush about her rescuer. Audley was hauled into a tent and Edmund moved to stand near the King to see why the man was taking so long to decide to return to London. As he came over he could still hear him, Dudley, Empson, Oxford and Reynold Bray discussing Perkin Warbeck.

'They believe the lad is in Ireland biding his time' Oxford muttered and Henry Tudor frowned and nodded, when he first came to England he had dark blonde hair, now in his fortieth year it had greyed considerably but wisps of blonde were still evident if one looked hard enough. The man was gaunt and looked like he never slept compared to the reasonably healthy face he once had. He sat on the throne that he knew wasn't his, and it gave him nightmares. Edmund stood before them and bowed, Tudor nodded to him.

'My lord Suffolk have you been injured?' Tudor asked forcing himself to sound sincerely concerned and Edmund waved his good hand.

'Nothing I shall not recover from your majesty' Edmund said with a smile and the King nodded. Edmund jerked his head towards the tent where Audley was kept.

'Has he given a reason for his treason yet?' He asked and Henry Tudor frowned, he was a tall thin man but reasonably built. He was not overly handsome but could not ever be described as being ugly, but he was aged beyond his years. Indeed sometimes he could pass off as being his mother's twin.

'It has something to do with the foreign lad' Henry said in disdain and Edmund nodded pretending to be sympathetic, Henry had never liked him and certainly he would never trust him.

'With your permission your majesty may I speak with him for a moment, I knew Audley well when the tyrant King Richard was on the throne' Edmund said and Henry paused before answering, Bray and Oxford muttered to him about how he might get some answers from Audley, reluctantly the King nodded.

'Yes perhaps you could get some answers from him my lord Suffolk, he is obviously reluctant to indulge in anything with my advisors here' Henry said holding his hands out to show Bray, Dudley and Empson, all lawyers and not a speck of aristocratic blood between them. Edmund smiled and bowed, he excused himself and went towards Audley's tent. The guards having been assured that he had the King's permission and reminding them who he was, allowed him inside. Audley was on the ground beaten and bruised, blood dribbling down his chin, he was tied up to the pole that held the tent upright, if he dared to break from there, he pulled the tent down and raised the alarm. They were of the same age, of the same build, and of the same old reign of King Edward. Edmund supposed at one point they might have been considered even friends.

'What were you thinking?' Edmund muttered at the doomed man, Audley looked at him blood pouring into his eyes from a nasty gash above his eye. Edmund in an act of mercy took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from the man's eyes. Audley's voice deprived of water after a fierce battle sounded hoarse.

'For King Edward's boy!' Audley croaked and Edmund could only imagine that the man was talking about Perkin Warbeck, rather than outright denying Perkin was his cousin Edmund pressed him further.

'What makes you so sure it's him?' Edmund asked, he _was_ rather curious to know what made men throw in their lot with an unknown pretender. He was amused when Audley thrust his face out and spoke passionately in defence of the Flemish lad posing as a Prince.

'He has the same scar that my lord of York had had' Audley insisted Edmund nodded but silently believed that scars could be duplicated whereas memories couldn't. Edmund turned to the flap of the tent to make sure no one was around.

'When does he land in England?' Edmund asked in interest lowering his voice, he could not have the King overhearing him, Audley looked at him delightfully and rather trustingly.

'He lands soon, somewhere on the Cornish coast, he'll either aim to take an important town or he'll march on towards London' Audley said and Edmund feigning interest.

'And your sure he's my uncle's boy?' He asked firmly and Audley nodded looking as if all his dreams were coming through.

'Edward's boy will return and restore England to its former glory, the usurper will be gone' Audley said and Edmund shook his head, all of England knew that Henry Tudor had an extraordinary amount of luck when it came to battles, and this one cemented that opinion. Edmund remembered back in 1485 at Tudor's first battle when he witnessed his uncle's dead naked carcass sprawled out over a mule for all of England to see. The rage he had felt as a seventeen year old young man never truly died, Richard for a time had been a role model, Richard had taken an interest in his sister's children whereas good King Edward barely took an interest in his own children far to busy amusing himself. Audley himself had at the time transferred his loyalty from King Edward to his daughter's husband until he became disillusioned like many. Edmund could barely believe the lies that came out of his mouth next.

'Tudor knows that Richard of York will land along the coast, he has stations of men waiting for him, since he is an adult King with two male heirs many will not side with my lord York' Edmund said but Audley shook his head.

'My lord Richard has a son as well, named for his father' Audley said and Edmund nodded intrigued that Audley was that well linked with Perkin Warbeck. It was disturbing to know that Warbeck had a son and heir however, murdering children was a risky business as Uncle Richard had learned.

'How old?' Edmund asked

'A babe, but he will grow tall and strong like his father and grandfather' He said and Edmund nodded but really hoped the boy wouldn't.

'If the King had died here today, nothing would have stopped my lords Henry and Arthur from disappearing, but alas you and your troops have failed, the Tudor King trots around the place with his head held high' Edmund said and Audley visibly darkened. Edmund timed his next words carefully and slowly he spoke.

'Unless we do something about it?' He said and Audley frowned, Edmund looked to the tent flap again and came closer to Audley.

'You are disgraced as it is, only killing the king will save you now, the King has no brothers, nor does he have any royal uncles with an ounce of power, the people will look to someone else to be a protector to the young King Henry and his brother Prince Arthur, they will look to the Queen's family, I am the eldest member of her family, I hold an earldom which should be a duchy, I am Richard of York's cousin, when he lands I have the two boys in my power, do you see where I am going with this?' Edmund asked aware that Audley seemed uncomfortable.

'The way King Richard had gone?' Audley asked and Edmund almost struck the man but kept his face surprisingly calm, Audley continued his conscience taking over.

'And what will happen to King Edward's grandsons?' He asked cautiously and Edmund could see it would be harder to get this man on board than he thought, anyone with Edward's blood deserved loyalty in Audley's mind.

'There are two….the elder one Henry will be given what is rightfully his, his grandmother is a rich widow, his father has an earldom which is rightfully his, he will inherit all of that, as far as I know Jasper, Duke of Bedford had given his lands and estates to the young brother Arthur, they will be provided for' Edmund said and Audley visibly calmed yet again. Edmund inwardly smiled and reminded himself if a blacksmith and a lawyer got him on their side, how could Edmund not.

'And the earl of Warwick in the tower?' Audley said and Edmund realised the man was negotiating, Edmund nodded thinking of how the only way poor cousin Edward of Warwick would ever see the light of day was heading towards the headsman, he was in everyone's way no matter what side they were on, Perkin wouldn't want him around, Tudor didn't want him around and Edmund certainly didn't want to deal with the threat of him hanging over him.

'He will be restored to the duchy of Clarence' Edmund lied and Audley nodded his eyes flickering about the tent in thought.

'My son and heir…'

'He will be restored to full honours, as soon as I can' He said and Audley nodded he glanced to Edmund.

'You have an heiress, marry my son to your daughter and we have a deal, death is the path that I am on, for Richard of York however I can do him a great service, you will let him know won't you' Audley said concerned and Edmund rested his hand on Audley's shoulder pretending to be affectionate whilst thinking there was not a chance he was marrying his infant daughter Elizabeth to Audley's son.

'It would be an honour and a privilege to marry my daughter to you son, and my dear cousin shall know all that you have sacrificed in his honour' He said and Audley the great fool nodded, he tugged at the shackles that held him together.

'How shall I do it?' He asked and Edmund smiled, quickly glancing to the flap of the tent he bent over and whispered in Audley's ear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for the reviews and interest in the story...here the next chapter hope you enjoy**

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**13:00, Friday, 17 June 1497, The Tower of London, London**

With his sword out ready for battle Harry slowly crept along the side of the white tower, his five year old younger brother Art followed his lead down on all fours. Art had his own small sword out to attack the Cornishmen who had raised up in rebellion against their father. Both boys were dressed in matching red tunics and dark hose. Behind Art stood their seven year old sister Maggie who was pouting that she did not have a sword, however Harry warned her to count herself lucky that since she was a girl that she even got to play with them at all. Next to Maggie stood their cousins Anne and Elizabeth, the daughters of their aunt Cecily of York who at the present moment was sowing with their mother the Queen of England back at the royal lodgings with their other sisters Anne, Lady Howard and Catherine, Lady Courtenay as well as Lady Margaret Beaufort.

They had been in the Tower for the past week having been brought together and dashed into the tower. Harry thought his mother was affected by this the most, and he had eavesdropped on her a number of times to hear her lament to her sisters on the dangers of Harry's father being toppled from his throne. Harry listened with an increasingly panicked heart as his mother reminded her sisters of the time when their father Edward IV had died, each of them had been very quiet and pensive regarding it but Harry believed his mother and Aunt Cecily had shaper more frightened memories of the time. Harry heard her voice her worries of what would happen to him and his brother Art if their father was defeated and Perkin Warbeck emerged victor. Harry had rushed off unable to bear listening another minute.

Owing to the rush to get behind the tower's strong walls, Harry was forced to leave behind his companions which meant he was now stuck playing with his younger brother Art, and worse still his little sister Maggie insisted on joining in. Thankfully baby Mary was still not old enough to badger him about letting her play with him also. For the past week Harry had been followed by his siblings to see the animals at the tower's menagerie become they became merely a nuisance with the noise and the smell the emitted. The armoury was no more entertaining as most of the artillery had been hauled out of the tower for his father's army. Now having decided that there was nothing else to do, Harry had gathered his brother, his sister, his cousins around for a nice game of war. He stood over them as he looked at Arthur fumbling pathetically with his sword, his eyes slid to his bored looking sister Maggie who he could tell was simmering and ready for a argument.

Next to her was their cousins Lizzie and Annie, daughters of their aunt Cecily of York, Lady Welles. The pair of them always did what Maggie told them to do, they were small red haired little girls aged seven and five. Next to them was their cousin the four year old Lord Thomas Howard, the son of their aunt Anne, Lady Howard. Their last aunt Catherine, Lady Courtenay had a son also but little Edward Courtenay was asleep in the nursery with little Mary. It hadn't always been fun and games since they entered the tower, for the first two days they kneeled on the cold stone floor praying to God for victory over their enemies, when the danger and their attention span abated, Harry since he was the eldest and the heir to the throne ordered his brother, sister and cousin out with him to search the tower of London for their uncles Edward and Richard. They still hadn't found them, but they had annoyed their mothers.

Harry hated the tower, it was old, uncomfortable, it was nothing like the palaces that his father was trying to improve, there was no decent tiltyard, there was no tennis court. Harry never thought he would be sad to part from his tutor John Skelton but the man had also been left behind while Harry had been dragged to the tower, so he hadn't even his lessons to distract him from the boredom. He hated being cooped up, and his father better live up to that promise of taking them to Woodstock to hunt as soon as this nasty business was over with.

Harry pulled at the tight collar on his neck, their mother had insisted on both he and Art to be superbly dressed. Unfortunately that also meant that they were superbly dressed in the same clothes even knowing that they had not seen anyone of importance from London enter the tower since they arrived themselves. Although a young messenger had arrived an hour ago informing them all to their joy that their father had defeated the Cornishmen and was on his way back to the Tower. She reasoned that just because their father had been forced into one of the most terrifying moments of his life doesn't mean they can't look good for the entire duration of it. Harry like his grandfather King Edward enjoyed splendid clothes, his only true grievance was that he was dressed so similar to his little brother who was delighted with their matching clothes. Harry turned to Art and whispered to him as Art sat up on his knees, his small sword held awkwardly in his chubby hand. Harry ignored the girls behind Art, what good were they anyway in matters of war?

'They are fast approaching my lord have you and your men moved into position yet?' Harry asked glancing to see Maggie, eight year old Lizzie, and five year old Annie frown at being called 'Men', Harry ignored them reasoning that they had moaned and moaned until their mother's let them off sowing to join the boys, they knew what they had signed up for when he ordered them outside. Harry watched as his brother nodded his head excitedly with a big toothy grin on his face. Harry looked to his second in command who was trying to wipe mud off his hands from crawling unnecessarily along the ground but was making himself worse by rubbing it into his tunic, mother would not be pleased. Harry watched as Maggie gently took the sword out of Art's slippery hands and handed it to Lizzie, she then pulled out a handkerchief and softly cleaned his hands up as Art grinned at her.

'Thank you sister' He muttered, he was reward with a rare smile. She then returned the sword to her little brother, followed her arms and turned to face her elder one.

'And what are we suppose to do?' Maggie asked tapping her foot impatiently against the ground as Annie and Lizzie both nodded unimpressed behind her. Harry smelt a mutiny in his own ranks and scowled at them. He glanced to little Thomas who seemed uncaring and bored with the lot of them, he was a sour little child even at his age.

'You are to follow Art, you are in his vanguard' Harry said waving his sword in the air, Maggie rolled her eyes and scoffed pulling off a particularly good impression of their grandmother and her namesake.

'This game is boring, why can we not go and play hide and seek?' She asked as Harry felt his temper rise up, he never did like playing with them much, they were always objecting and forming their own ideas. That was why he liked having his own household, there was no younger siblings ready to pull rank and protest against him.

'I want to play battle' Harry said and Maggie sighed

'You have not even provided us with weapons, so why should we listen to you?' She asked determinedly as her minions nodded loyally. Harry gritted his teeth and noticed his brother looked torn, wanting to be a man like Harry but forever stuck in Maggie's feminine world.

'Well Art wants to follow me, yes brother?' Harry asked and Art looked to Harry in alarm and back at his formidable sister. He bit his lip, and flicked back a stray strand of his pale blonde hair. Art held out his sword to Maggie.

'You can have my sword Maggie, I can fight with my Excalibur' He said with a grin handing his little sword away in favour of the one in his imagination. Harry sighed angrily that his sole male soldier was prepared to hand away his weapon. Maggie was almost appeased when she took the sword in her hand patting Art's head, however she glanced to their sword-less cousins and sighed. She handed the sword back to Art.

'A true knight needs a way to defend himself' She said smiling at him as Art looked delighted to be given it back, she tugged at the sleeve of Lizzie's dress and announced they forfeit the battle and pulled the girls away. The three girls walked off towards the entrance to the White tower.

'Where are you going?' Harry called angrily and Maggie shrugged without turning her back to him which upset him further, having his own household where everyone bowed to his whim and coming back to his equally royal siblings could be a shock. Especially when they failed to care when he insisted that he was more royal than them as he was the heir. Harry was further annoyed when little Thomas wandered off without warning and began to follow the girls. The girls wandered past Master John Rede Arthur's tutor and little Thomas ran behind them. Master Rede smiled as they past and the gentle old man turned to look back towards Harry and Art. Art waved over happily and the tutor grinned and waved back. Harry jealously wondered if he could ever get Master Skelton to look as if he cared about him more than the prestige of teaching the heir to the throne. Harry turned back to Art irritated and saw the small boy with wide eyes prepared to take the brunt of Harry's temper. Next to Art, Thomas stood still expressionless as ever

'Very well my lord of York, it is just you and I, remembered you take on the vanguard leave me with Perkin Warbeck' Harry told him pulling his sword towards his mouth and kissing it as he had seen some of his father's knights do. Art quickly copied him fumbling with his sword and dropped it, he blushed and bent over to pick it up. Harry snorted at his brother's clumsiness, his brother was by far too babyish to ever become a true knight.

'Come along Art, do you think the Cornish are going to wait for you to be ready?' Harry demanded and Art bit his lip nervously again and picked up his sword, Harry stood to his full height.

'Come on you need to be on your guard, how will you ever help me lead my army into France if you cannot even hold your sword right' Harry chided him and Art looked at his feet in shame, Harry rolled his eyes at how easily disheartened his younger brother could be, he slapped his brother on the back making the smaller boy buck forward.

'Let us go brother, we charge now into battle!' Harry said and Art nodded eagerly and held his sword up high. Harry whispered to him.

'On the count of three, we turn this corner and run towards the rebels…..one…..two - he checked to see if his brother's bravery faltered yet, it hadn't ….THREE!' He yelled and raised his sword, Harry charged around the corner and ran towards the make believe army in front of him, Art came trotting behind him his little legs not able to keep up as well as Harry's. Harry though was amused when his brother roared out a battle cry that Harry had not ordered him to.

'FOR KING HENRY!' Harry began slashing mid air with his sword, and Art began to copy him yelling and growling as they crippled 20,000 Cornishmen all by themselves at the age of ten and five, every now and then they shouted at the other to see the handiwork done to the Cornishman they had slain.

'I took his head off with one stroke' Harry boasted as Art claimed he ripped through one man's heart. Art was getting the hang of his imagination he stopped and shouted to Harry who was noticing that many guards in the courtyard were watching them with amused smiles on their faces, some to Harry's annoyance and embarrassment were openly chuckling.

'HARRY, WARBECK IS TRYING TO FLEE!' Art yelled pointing to the thin air next to the Bell Tower, Harry nodded as Art spoke again.

'I'LL HOLD THEM OFF' He yelled bravely and Harry smiled proudly at him, his brother's martial education was coming along fine, this time next year they would be conquering France before King Charles could figure it out. Harry made his way slashing and stabbing the thin air with his sword as he made his way towards the Bell Tower where that irritating Flanders lad was quivering in fear of being caught by the might King Edward's grandsons. Harry followed him into a corner and smiled down.

'I have you now traitor!' Harry said darkly and held his sword up above his head preparing to bring it down on Perkin's neck, he paused when he heard shouting, he turned his head and saw those guarding the tower, the same men who were keeping an eye on them march quickly towards the gate of the tower, Art who had followed Harry have way to the Bell tower dropped his sword at once and grinned over at Harry forgetting all about the 20,000 angry Cornishmen who were baying for their blood.

'Papa's here Harry!' Art said delightfully jumping up and down and clapping his hands, Harry thought that his brother would wet himself with the excitement. Art abandoned their game and went to run towards the gate but Master Rede who had been keeping a close eye on them grabbed a hold of him.

'Easy my lord of York, wait until the horses come in' He said with a kind smile and Art laughed and nodded his head eagerly, Harry watched as Rede ruffled Arthur's golden hair, Harry turned around with a smile back to Perkin.

'You lose' he whispered and swung the sword down and Perkin was no more, Harry turned around and began to jog back over to his brother standing out of the way as horse after horse came in. They had heard that the battle had been won in the morning, their father had sent word with a trusty messenger but even at the age of ten, Harry could see that all was not well. The soldiers and courtiers were all talking hurriedly with one another, Harry saw his uncle Sir Thomas Howard, the heir to the earldom of Surrey look over at him mournfully. Harry secretly did not like his uncle all that much but his aunt seemed to be content with her lot, and he liked his aunt. Surrey came over and bowed.

'My lord' He said bowing, and Harry nodded at him uncomfortably. Behind Howard along came a giant of a man, and Harry smiled seeing the earl of Suffolk. Suffolk greeted him and then Lord Howard questioned Rede.

'Where is the Queen and my lady the King's mother?' He asked gravely as Rede frowned in concern as Art kept pulling on his sleeve to get his attention. Harry stood still trying to read the faces of his father's advisors. His father had often tried to drill into his head that he was rather naïve and that he needed to be less blindly trusting of others, he suggested that Harry try and figure out body language.

'They are in the royal apartments of course in the Lanthorn tower with the princesses' Rede replied and Lord Howard nodded, without another word he made his way up to the Lanthorn Tower and he was followed on his heels by the earl of Suffolk. Harry frowned in confusion and looked towards the gate for his father, he eyed each of the soldiers who did not look in his way, Art was still chirping about pulling harder and harder at his tutor's sleeve.

'But where is papa?' He asked loudly his smile sliding off his face, he turned and faced up to Rede, Rede patted his head.

'All will be well my lord, let us go and join your mother' He said and waved Harry over, Harry followed them, a worried feeling setting in at the pit of stomach. They had won the battle, they should have been celebrating, instead those around them were acting mournful, something wasn't right, his instincts were kicking in, his father should be here and he wasn't. but he had won the battle what could have happened? Harry paused on the steps into the Lanthorn Tower and Rede turned around stopping Art.

'Master Rede, where is my father? Where is the King?' Harry asked barely able to believe what his mind was whispering to him, Rede looked uneasy.

'I'm not sure my lord Prince, perhaps he has received word of the whereabouts of Perkin Warbeck' He said but Art laughed merrily.

'Master Rede did you not watch us, Harry and I destroyed Warbeck' He said happily as he continued to walk up the stairs towards their mother. Harry calmed himself, for a moment he believed his father had been slain in battle but he couldn't have. He followed his brother and Master Rede up the stairs wondering if his father had marched off to a different part of the Kingdom with his army. His father had been in constant fear that Warbeck would invade and destroy them all as he himself had done back in 1485. Art happily walked down towards the royal suites, Master Rede had his sword noticing this and oblivious to the tension Art jogged back to take his sword from his master's hands.

'Thank you' Art muttered to his tutor and began waving about his sword once again. Rede lightly scolded him reminding him that one did not mess with their swords indoors where they could hurt someone, Art smiled and nodded, he clipped his sword to his belt but did it wrong and the sword clattered to the hard ground making an echo along the quiet hall. The clanging unsettled Harry further and he felt himself getting irrationally angry with his innocent little brother.

'Oops..' Art said bending over to get his sword, he stood still struggling to clip it to his belt and Harry's patience snapped and grabbed his brother towards him and buckled the sword to his belt.

'Arthur, will you ever learn?' Harry huffed and made his way towards his mother's rooms, she would tell him what was happening, he would remind her that he was her heir and needed to know what everyone looked so worried about. He ignored that his brother was sniffing upset and that Master Rede had his hand on the five year old shoulder muttering him to stop crying when he was about to greet his mother and grandmother. Harry came to heavily guarded door of his mother's rooms and was scandalised when the guard stepped forward.

'I apologise my lord Prince but your grandmother has given me strict orders to insist that you and your brother return to your quarters where your two sisters are waiting' He said but Harry stood firm.

'I want to know what is happening' Harry said quietly as timid Master Rede attempted to bring him away from the door.

'I want to know what is happening' Harry said louder pushing his brother's anxious hand away from him and then nudged the young boy in the shoulder, he shoved rather hard and he heard his brother fall to the ground and heard him whimper again. The boy was far to soft and gentle for his own good. Although his heart was beating fast in shame at throwing his little brother to the floor, Harry however wouldn't allow it to distract him from staring at the unaccommodating guard. The bottom of his stomach seemed to drop out when he heard a terrible scream come from the throat of his mother, Harry went for his sword without thinking and charged towards the door in fright pushing the guards with all his might. If anyone was hurting…

'Mother! Mother!' Harry shouted in fear, Arthur was up on his feet again struggling with the guard as they were held back, Master Rede seemed to be torn before deciding to try and pick Art up even though the boy kicked and fussed.

'Mama!' Art shouted in fright, Harry glanced at him to see tears rolling down his brother's cheeks his arm held out lightly slapping Rede's arms. The door of the apartments were pulled opened and Harry as long as he lived will never forget the look his mother had on her face. Her hair was dishevelled, her cheeks wet with tears, her face pale and staring at him with fear, she shoved the guardsman away and pulled him and Arthur into a hug.

'My boys! My boys, I swear I will not part with you no matter what' She muttered into their hair as they clung on tight to her, Harry's heart sped up, something bad had happened, he squeezed his eyes shut in fear.

'Where is papa?' Harry heard Art whisper and his stomach dropped when his mother answered by sobbing. They were interrupted by lady Margaret Beaufort tears in her eyes, her face stricken, she ushered them inside but Harry's mother would not let go of them. She pulled them towards the chair near the fire and sat down holding them, Art was crying but Harry realised without being told that he was no longer merely a Prince, if his suspicions were correct and with a queasy stomach threatening to spew over the room he was now King of England. Art asked again his voice small and scared.

'Mama where is papa?' He asked and Harry lost his patience with the boy, he hit him to shut him up and the boy yelped in pain far too quickly, Elizabeth of York's attention was taken away from thoughts and looked to her five year old and her ten year old.

'Harry do not hurt your brother' She said sternly tears still flowing free, she caressed their cheeks as Harry looked towards the rug near the fire then back up to her, she couldn't say it so he did for her.

'He was slain in battle wasn't he?' Harry asked and Art gasped and shook his head horrified, his mother's attention was brought to Art as the boy sobbed and shook his head repeating over and over no, no, no, no… Harry took his mother's face in his hand.

'Mother, what happened?' He asked barely able to keep the emotion out of his voice and his mother brought her hand to her mouth and shook her head unable to answer. Harry saw his grandmother approach on unsteady feet, his face turned toward the earl of Suffolk and lord Howard. Finally his mother stood up and muttered to Rede, Art was then passed over to Rede not without a struggle and Harry watched in jealously as his brother was escorted out of the room, where he had to remain because at the age of ten was the eldest and was forced to shoulder the heavy burden that Art did not have to.

'What happened?' Harry asked in a low voice and the men hesitated, Harry felt his anger rise that no one answered.

'I AM YOUR KING ANSWER ME!' Harry shouted standing up on his feet the tears beginning to leak out. The earl of Suffolk stepped forward his great bulk towering over Harry, the man bent down on one knee and looked into Harry's face.

'Your majesty - Harry gasped when addressed as King - your father has been killed following the battle of Blackheath' He said and Harry looked to the ground in pain, he bit his lip willing away the tears forming in his eyes. He wanted his father back, he wanted him to come riding through the tower's gates like he promised, he wanted them to be at Woodstock where he promised they would go hunting as soon as all the troubles were over. Harry was in too much in shock over how drastic everything had changed to feel the hollowness that was settling in his heart as he tried to comprehend that at the age of ten he was King of England, that his father was dead and never coming back. There would be no family trips to Woodstock, there would be no progresses together to Coventry and Leicester. England was now in his hands and as head of the family, he was in charge of his mother brother and sisters, the thought terrified him and he burst out crying. Instantly he felt ashamed, what kind of King cried in front of his subjects. His mother wrapped her arm around his shoulder but he ignored her and looked to Suffolk.

'What _happened_?' Harry pushed wiping his tears away aggressively and Suffolk put his beefy hand on Harry's other shoulder. Harry looked into the man's eyes and saw only compassion.

'Lord Audley hoping to encourage the right of Perkin Warbeck killed him while we were about to transport him, somehow he managed to get hold of dagger and loosened his shackles, it happened so sudden' Suffolk said a tear dribbling down his cheek he quickly grabbed his hand and wiped it away, Harry felt an odd sense of relief that a man as strong and tall as Suffolk could cry, the shame of showing emotion faded from Harry slightly. Suffolk lowered his voice.

'It will be okay Harry, I promise' He whispered and Harry smiled wiping his wet cheeks. Suffolk his mother's favourite cousin had always been around, Harry had taken some lessons from the friendly giant, and watched him practice his jousting, he made Harry feel safe and that was why on one of the most frightful days of his life as he imagined every possible hideous way his father had died he felt himself go into Suffolk's chest and rest his head there as the man's arms came around him. Suffolk shushed him and patted his back as Harry let out his sobs imagining his father being stabbed and gruesomely murdered by the faceless lord Audley. Harry then heard his grandmother speak, although her voice cracked the venom was there to hear.

'And where is the traitor now?' She asked and Howard stepped forward to answer.

'Perhaps not in front of the King' He said lowly, Harry watched as two of his mother's sisters a shaken Cecily and Anne came towards her and helped her sit down in a chair and handed her a cup of ale. His mother drank as her other sister Catherine rubbed her back soothingly.

'_Well_ where is he?' Margaret Beaufort's voice rang out again the pain of losing her only child evident on her face.

'I am now the King of England, as King I insist in knowing' He said, the adults all around him looked at one another, their eyes went to lady Margaret she went to open her mouth to pass judgement but Harry's mother spoke up.

'He is right, he is old enough to know, and he should learn what happened, he is now King' She said softly sounding no more happy about it than anyone else and Suffolk nodded.

'She is right' He said loudly and lady Margaret looked at him like thunder and shook her head.

'He is ten' She insisted and Harry felt a flash of anger.

'Almost eleven!' He reminded her and he gulped down a sob realising his father would not be there for his next birthday. Harry stared angrily at his grandmother and was shocked and guilt ridden when she stifled a sob and caved, she sat down in her chair and put her head in her hands, one of her ladies patted her back gently and wine was sent for. Suffolk turned to Harry.

'When Audley could, he stabbed your father through the heart crying out that it was for King Richard, your father did not suffer it was quick, when I saw what happened I was overcome with anger at the betrayal, I tackled him hoping to save your father, Audley nearly stabbed me and in defence I was forced to kill him' Suffolk said sighing, Harry's body trembled.

'Did he suffer?' Harry asked

'No your father was dead before he touched the ground, it was like falling asleep' Suffolk said sympathetically but Harry shook his head impatiently.

'No did Audley suffer?' He asked and Suffolk paused and regarded him closely, Harry could have sworn he saw a sliver of a smile grace his lips, Harry hoped Suffolk was impressed, Kings would not allow for their family to be murdered and revenge not to have been sought.

'Yes I believe he did, I was only able to slash at his throat' Suffolk said sounding proud for a moment and lady Margaret gasped.

'My lord Suffolk, please, regardless that he is a King, he is still only a boy' She hissed at him. Harry bit his lip to stop himself from lashing at his grandmother, Suffolk was a hero, and now that his father was dead he was no longer simply a boy.

'I will not allow anyone to take them from me' Elizabeth of York declared to the quiet room remembering the fate of her brothers, Harry felt a wave of fear flash through him, he wished he had been five years older to deal with the unexpected death of his father, he thought about his brother and wished for once in his life that Art had been born the elder one, that he would have to deal with the problems that lay ahead.

'Matters need to be decided' Lord Howard said to the Queen who nodded running her hands through her golden hair.

'What needs to be decided?' Harry asked confused and worried, would he and Art be taken away from their mother like their uncles had once been, would they have to flee to sanctuary, was his sister Margaret going to become Queen if some exiled youth comes back from abroad and claims the throne as his own and marries her?

'There is the matter of the regency, in his last will the King had insisted that the duke of Bedford would be regent for the young King, but however the duke passed away last year and the King failed to update his will' Surrey said and lady Margaret stood up.

'My lord Derby shall be regent, he is my husband, and I am the grandmother of the King' She insisted they watched as Elizabeth of York gave her a hard stare.

'I am their _mother_' Elizabeth said looking around for support, lady Margaret scoffed.

'And what will stop you from remarrying, and making the stepfather the regent?' Margaret asked and Elizabeth's face darkened further, without his father Harry could see they could not even be bothered to pretend that they liked one another.

'You think I will marry now, my husband hasn't even been dead a day' Elizabeth snapped at her as Margaret's face scrunched up at the reminder that her beloved son was dead, she shook her head tears leaking from her face. Still Harry watched as his grandmother recovered her composure for a moment to make another biting remark.

'I loved him a lot more than you did, you will move on from him as soon as the proper time has passed, I will mourn him for the rest of my days' Margaret insisted as Harry frowned, Elizabeth took a step closer to her mother in law and everyone looked on in alarm.

'I loved him deeply my lady, do not underestimate it, just because you have never found happiness in a marriage does not mean your son and I did not!' She said raising her voice with each word, Harry noticed his grandmother looked like she had been slapped. Suffolk stepped in between them when lady Margaret curled her fist.

'Ladies, we need to discuss this rationally, and do not forget our young King is standing next to you' Suffolk said ruffling Harry's hair. Elizabeth and Margaret stood staring at each other dangerously but said nothing. Howard stepped forward and spoke.

'Truthfully ladies, England will not stand for a female ruler -' Howard said but Elizabeth interrupted.

'It would only be until he comes of age, and he needn't even be an adult as the law dictates, by the time he turns sixteen or seventeen he shall be old enough, he is eleven in September, in five years he can end his minority' Harry heard his mother say while Suffolk and Howard sighed at the length of time until they had an adult ruler.

'I think it would be safest if Queen Elizabeth is in charge of the King and his brother the prince, and perhaps with the guidance of the nobility and the council England can still be governed wisely' Suffolk said putting a hand on Elizabeth's who touched his with her other hand in return with a grateful kind smile. Harry watched as his grandmother's eyes narrowed dangerously once again.

'If the council will agree to it, and if the Queen agrees not to remarry until her son is of age' Margaret said and Elizabeth sighed and dropped her hand down from Suffolk and eyed her mother in law, Harry watched the women argue silently and wondered how they did it. He wanted his father back, he did not like what was happening, they spoke about him as if he was not in the room, they spoke to him as if he was not the King of England, he did not like it. He was the most powerful person in England but he felt utterly powerless. They would never have ignored his father, and they would never would have ignored his grandfather.

'Do I not get to voice my thoughts?' Harry asked impulsively with a frown, every eyes in the room turned to look at him in surprise. He almost faltered in surprise when they remained quiet, he hadn't expected that.

'I want to stay with my mother' Harry said disappointed at how childish he sounded, his mother took his hand and nodded.

'Harry you will go where I send you, no one else will be in charge of you' She promised, Suffolk interrupted them before Harry could thank her.

'We will not solve anything here, we must leave the tower and go to another palace and hold court, where an announcement will be made, but before we do that it's crucial that the King's person is secure and all of us can agree on who the regent should be' Suffolk said and everyone nodded except for lady Margaret who sat staring at Suffolk with unmasked distrust. Harry felt his irritation with his grandmother rise, why was she always interfering?

'Many will hope to be regent, the duke of Buckingham will claim regency based on his heritage' Howard added in distaste as Lady Margaret scoffed.

'I insist that the regent should have more brain than estates' She insisted and Suffolk added.

'Also my lord the marquis of Dorset will claim regency because of his kinship with you my lady' He said to Harry's mother. Harry frowned, he did not really like his uncle Dorset, he was the half brother of his mother and was more ambitious than he was clever at least that was what his father always said. The thought of his father once again brought Harry away from the arguing adults as they put forward more and more regents. Harry knew if his father was here even at the age of ten he would know what to do, he always knew what to do. Harry remembered back to when his father jumped up on his favourite white horse Raglan, his father had looked at him with a smile even though he must have been nervous about meeting the Cornish rebels. His father had smiled at him and for all their arguments and different points of view on kingship there was still a mutual love between them.

'While I'm gone Henry, you're in charge' He said and Harry had nodded eagerly he had never been in charge before. He was only a day in real charge and already he hated it. Harry thoughts were brought back to the present when he heard his mother dispassionately arguing once again.

'London would open the gates up to anyone else who promises her more, and then my children will be trapped, the tower is not for certain safe, and I will not have history repeating itself, my children shall be removed under heavy guard and kept at Windsor, it is not too far from London, and we can summon him back at a moments notice, the walls are as formidable as those of Troy, they will be safe there, then I will speak with the privy council, we will take steps to condemn the rebels as my dear husband King Henry would have dealt with them, and we will continue our vigilance in searching for any signs of disturbance from Perkin Warbeck' Elizabeth said and Harry smiled wiping away his silent tears, his mother could take care of everything when she put her mind to it. He watched his mother address the earl of Suffolk.

'My lord Suffolk, I entrust to you my children, I wish for you to take them to Windsor and 'My course my dear cousin I will help you in whatever way I can' He said and Elizabeth smiled, she turned to Harry who began to shake his head fiercely, he would not be parted from her.

'You just said not too long ago that you would not be parted from me' Harry pointed out working himself into a temper, she rubbed his forehead and kissed it.

'I know, but you will be where _I _put you not where someone else has' She insisted and Harry sighed, she continued with her order.

'I want you to go with Suffolk for a short while, it won't be long, I will be very busy ensuring the safety of your person and the Kingdom, I need you to be a good boy and listen to Suffolk's every word' She said sternly her beautiful eyes glossy with unshed tears, his heart ached for her and the pain she was through, and he wondered if he would ever see her again, he was so worried he asked her out loud betraying his fear. Her face fell but then she smiled and he could tell it was genuine.

'Of course my dear boy, I will see you as soon as I can' She said and brought him into a hug, Harry gripped tightly to his mother and breathed in her scent, he could never really describe it, Roses, scented perfume and fondly he could smell upon her truffle which she favoured and must have been eaten before they came and told her that her husband had been murdered and her ten year old son was King of England. When his mother let him go, he went towards his grandmother and she held on to him tightly, then after a kiss on the cheek he wandered over to the earl of Suffolk who was waiting for him. Suffolk tried to give him a reassuring smile but Harry couldn't bring himself to return,

'Are you ready my lord Harry?' Suffolk asked but Harry shook his head,

'I am King Henry' He reminded him, Suffolk nodded and Harry turned and nodded towards his aunts, lord Howard, his mother, and his grandmother. He turned on his heel and followed Suffolk to his fate.


End file.
